TARTANI
by ClockWork Eidolon
Summary: It was thanks to one of their… antics… that he had locked himself up in this room in the first place. He was trying to write out a paper about clockwork engines, and he could not be interrupted or distracted. At least if he didn't want to be expelled from the Guild. Steampunk AU. Character Death Warning. Brotps include: Spamano, GerIta, Prupan, and others.
1. Unum

**TARTANI**

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><p>A knock reverberated on the door, drowning out the soft <em>bzzt <em>of the electric lamps illuminating the study. Instantly, Lovino knew who it was, and he sighed, shuffling a few papers, before shoving them to the side. He was _not _in the mood. "Go away," he snapped.

He wanted peace, that was why he was in the study. Peace and quiet. Which, was hard to find here in the Machinist Guild with the constant _whrrr _of oversized cogs, the hiss of steam, and the unceasing babbling of the other guildmates. Not to mention, their zany behavior. It was thanks to one of their… antics… that he had locked himself up in this room in the first place. He was trying to write out a paper about clockwork engines, and he could not be interrupted or distracted. At least if he didn't want to be expelled from the Guild.

"Are you sure, little one?" replied Antonio, using the nickname he gave the young man eight years ago, when Lovino was… well… little. "Lunch is ready." Lovino snorted, blowing his bangs out of his eyes.

"I don't care." He got out of the chair and walked over to the crammed oaken bookshelf, yanking out a leather-bound book stuffed with crinkled sheets of paper. Now… where was that diagram? With his brow furrowed, he bit his bottom lip, scanning the small study

"There's pasta," said Antonio. Lovino rolled his eyes, frustrated, but a bit amused at his attempt to coax him out of the room.

"I'm not hungry, and it's probably that creamy shit that my idiot younger brother likes," he shot back. Antonio's sigh was audible from behind the steel barricade that Lovino had bolted shut and secured so idiots, like Antonio, wouldn't come barging in without any notice.

"There's both," answered Antonio after a moment's silence, broken only by the continuous stream of _thuds _as Lovino emptied the bookshelf, irritated at the sheer amount of books that the damn thing could hold. Why did he ever allow so many books in this room? He didn't even _like _the stupid things.

"Still don't care, still not hungry." He yanked a desk drawer open with such force, it came right out, crashing onto the floor, spilling old gears, copper wires, and spare ammunition everywhere. "Son of a-" he swore so colorfully, that it could've painted a canvas with a infinite amount of lurid rainbows.

"Little one? are you alright?" enquired Antonio. Lovino scowled and chucked a sizeable gear at the door, making it shiver.

"I would be if a certain asshole would leave me alone," Lovino retorted. Grabbing handfuls of junk, he dumped the stuff back in the drawer and jammed it back into the desk. But, not without banging his head against the desk's edge.

"_Dammit_!"

"What was that?" exclaimed Antonio. The door rattled, but was held shut by the crossbar and the deadbolt. Under his breath, Lovino proclaimed his undying love for whoever came up with such a brilliant contraption.

"You locked the door…"

A thin smirk twisted the corners of Lovino's lips, despite the grievous goosebump that was swelling up on his forehead. "You've noticed, finally," he drawled, rubbing his throbbing forehead.

A snort was heard from Antonio. "You do know, that if I wanted to, I could have Gilbert take the locks off the door," he said. Lovino made a face, gripping the chair tightly.

"I still carry knives in my boots," Lovino replied. A moment of silence as Antonio digested the threat...

"You still do that?" he asked. Lovino crossed his arms, his lips pursed into a thin line. He needed to soundproof this room, or else what was the point of having a door? Talking with Antonio, even with a door separating the two of them, it was like having him in the room. Such emotion. The perfect raise in pitch... the subtle emphasis… Lovino could imagine him standing right in front of him, arms crossed, his left eyebrow raised in an amused, if somewhat exasperated expression.

Dammit.

"Yes, didn't you just hear me?" Lovino snapped, turning his attention back to the books that littered the floor.

"But, that's dangerous, little one," said Antonio. Lovino rolled his eyes, wishing that Antonio could see it, and get the point. But, if Antonio were to see it… then…

Forget it.

"Not anymore dangerous than carrying loaded guns." Lovino jammed a few books back into the bookshelf, only to let out a vehement curse as they tumbled back down, straight on top of his head.

"Fair point," Antonio conceded. "But, is everything alright in there?"

Lovino huffed, kicking a book and sending it flying in his irritation. "Fine, just _fine_," he spat out in between clenched teeth. Antonio _hrrmed_, flushing Lovino's cheeks.

"I am fine, bastard!" he snapped.

"Please, can you be a little less vulgar?" asked Antonio.

"How about this? Screw you."

"Better," Antonio replied cheerfully. Lovino groaned, shaking his head.

"But," began Antonio, "will you be coming down to lunch? The others are waiting for you."

"Why should I? I'm not hungry," Lovino lied, his stomach grumbling. Thankfully, Antonio couldn't hear _that _through the door. If he could, there'd be no end to his fussing. Worry, worry, worry. That was Antonio's specialty. When he wasn't helping his younger brother, Feliciano out with design; or running errands for Gilbert and Ludwig, the two potato bastards, as Lovino "affectionately" dubbed them, he was worrying and mother henning their unit to death.

"Laura's there," Antonio said. Lovino stiffened, his hands becoming tight fists. How casually he could say that! As if… As if…

"Are you messing with me? I thought the girls were out today," enquired Lovino. He could practically see Antonio's shrug as he replied:

"Yes, but the port was closed due to an incident with one of the airships and there was a small fire. Nothing too severe, thankfully," replied Antonio.

"Why wasn't I informed of this?"

Antonio sighed. "Because you spend most of the time cooped up in your study, how are we supposed to convey anything to you?"

Lovino snorted. "I don't know, maybe… Just stand outside of my door and say, 'hi, hate to interrupt you, but there was a fire at the port, and as such, Laura and the others decided to stay in the Guild today'. Or, you could slip a note under my door." He shoveled another pile of junk into the open drawer. "That's what most people would do," he added.

"By most, you mean you, right, little one?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"So…" Antonio trailed.

Lovino narrowed his eyes, shooting a look at the door. "What?"

"Will you be coming to lunch?"

Lovino rolled his eyes and made his way over to the door, and undid the locks, peeking his head out to give Antonio a look. Tall, lean, with wavy brown hair that framed his grass-green eyes, Antonio was giving Lovino one of his signature soft grins that made the girls blush (much to Lovino's annoyance), or… at least until he saw the mark on Lovino's forehead. His eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Little one, what the-"

"Don't ask," interjected Lovino, glaring up at him. He wished he was about a foot taller so he could look down at everyone with an evil-eyed glare like the bigger bastard out of the two Potato Bastards- Ludwig- did. Unfortunately, true to the title of "little one" he was on the short side.

Antonio tilted his head to the side, peering past Lovino into the room. "What in the…?" His jaw dropped. Snorting, Lovino stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"Don't think about it, bastard," snapped Lovino, his long black trenchcoat flaring out behind him as he stormed down the hall.

With an incredulous expression, Antonio watched him go before shaking his head, and breaking out into a light run to catch up with him.

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><p><em><strong>To Be Continued…<strong>_

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><p>"<em>Tears of stars heavier than his voice. <em>

_Where are the stars that colored out your looks? _

_Fragments of memories from those days cross over the night sky. _

_The night calmed down with my thoughts of you."_

_-Syrufit, Fill You In _


	2. Duo

**TARTANI**

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><p>The mess hall was a cavernous arched corridor that was all blinding electric lights and loud noises: the clangor of the ancient gears whirring overhead; the melody of steam being pumped through the pipes inside the walls; and shouts of laughter, notes of conversation. It was a wild sort of place, where rules were disregarded and mayhem reigned supreme. Where a drunk Eliza had, much to the delight of the males in the Guild, clambered onto the table and stripped down to her undergarments. Strange things had happened here, and even stranger things were yet to come. But, for now, everything was quaint… If quaint happened to mean a small circus.<p>

Gilbert Beilschmidt, all cheeky smiles and tousled bone-white hair, was showing off his latest contraption to the applause and admiration of his unit: a mechanical chick, painted in the most lurid shade of canary yellow imaginable, and hopping all over the table, making robotic chirruping noises.

"It's so cute," squealed Feliciano, clapping his hands together. Gilbert turned towards him, crimson eyes sparkling as he angled his head.

"Really?" Feliciano nodded, prompting Gilbert to broaden his grin. "Thanks."

Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother, sighed and gave his brother a pointed stare. "I have a question for you." He stabbed his fork into the baked potato. Eyebrows arched, Gilbert turned in his direction.

"Yes?"

"Did you finish building that steam-powered cannon yet?"

The crimson flush that colored Gilbert's pale face told all that the answer was "no". Ludwig snorted, his nostrils flaring, and took a deep swig of coffee. "Gil…" Gilbert sighed, shaking his head, and scooped the mechanical canary off the table. It hopped around on the palm of his hand and would've fallen off if he had not closed his hand around it.

"I have it under control," he mumbled, slumping back in his seat. Ludwig gave him a terse nod, folding his arms.

"I hope so, or else Honda will have to pick up your slack… yet _again_."

Kiku Honda, commonly referred to as Honda, and a slight man with wide almond-colored eyes and neat raven hair with blunt bangs, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Ah… it's no trouble…"

Ludwig shook his head as Gilbert gave Kiku an appreciative nod. "Sorry about that by the way," said Gilbert. Kiku nodded, giving the white-haired male a tight smile.

"It's quite alright."

"Brother!" Feliciano sprang out of his seat as Lovino stormed towards the table, irritated as a silent, yet cheerful looking Antonio walked beside him. Lovino snorted and alternated a look between his younger brother and the mountain of cleared plates in front of him. For being a delicate-looking boy, with a heart-shaped face and wide eyes much like Feliciano's, save for the hazel color, it was remarkable as to how vehement his expressions were: as if the world had done him a grave injustice.

"Really?" he snipped, scanning the table and the piles of empty plates. Half-eaten pork pies, tin tureens of buttered vegetables; seasoned bread, once plenty, now scarce... and… a pitiful pile of pasta laden with tomato sauce, all that remained of the Himalayan-sized mountain that had once occupied an oversized pewter platter. As for the carbonara, the lasagne, and the ravioli with the creamy alfredo sauce? Gone. All gone. "Greedy little bastard," he added in a sour undertone.

Antonio exchanged a look with his friend, Gilbert. "Where's Laura, Eliza, and Roderich?" he asked. Lovino shot him a withering glare.

"Yes, where is Laura?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"She and the others left just after Toni left to get you, brother," answered Feliciano. Lovino's scowl deepened.

"Figures." He took a seat next to Feliciano, occupying Antonio's former seat. "Can you pass me what remains of the pasta?" he asked, his voice clipped. Feliciano nodded, pushing the plate towards Lovino, who grabbed a fork and began shoveling the remainder of the pasta into his mouth.

Taking a seat next to Lovino, Antonio turned his attention towards Gilbert. "So, did I miss anything?" he asked. With a laugh, Gilbert replied:

"Nah, just Lud giving me the usual lecture." He gave his younger brother a rakish grin. Lud returned the smile with what most would call a grimace, but for him, was the equivalent of a broad, ear-to-ear grin. He wasn't one for broad smiles, preferring to leave such actions to Gilbert, or Feliciano.

Antonio chuckled. "So, how is that steam cannon coming?"

Gilbert feigned irritation, making a show out of chucking a piece of bread at Antonio. With incredible skill, Antonio plucked it out of midair and set it down on his plate. "Thanks," he said with a smile.

"You're terrible," replied Gilbert, his lips quirking upwards as he struggled to keep his air of hurt dignity. Ludwig snorted into his glass. Everyone at the table turned to stare at him.

"What?" he asked, straight-faced. Feliciano giggled, looking away from Ludwig. Confused, the blonde raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, what?"

His caramel eyes sparkling, Feliciano shrugged and exchanged a mischievous look with Gilbert. "Nothing," he replied. Ludwig continued to stare.

Lovino cleared his plate and stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I'll be leaving for my study now," he said. The others turned towards him.

"What? But, you just got here, Lovi!" exclaimed Gilbert, tilting his head to the side. Lovino snorted and dusted off his jacket.

"It doesn't matter. I have a big-ass paper to write on clockwork engines, because unlike _some _people here-" he shot Gilbert the evil eye "-I don't get a free pass when I mess up on account of _brilliance_." He spat out the last word with such an acid animosity that Gilbert cringed. Antonio's mouth flickered downwards in a frown.

"Little one…" he warned. Lovino's eyelids fluttered shut as he cocked his head at an angle in a dismissive gesture.

"How's that paper coming, anyways?" Feliciano piped up, trying to break the awkward silence that had befallen the group. Lovino snorted, turning on his younger brother.

"It'd be coming a lot better if I didn't have people interrupting my work every two minutes, dammit!"

"Well, that's too bad," a different voice called out cheerfully. The whole group turned in its direction to find a short old man with a silver goatee and obsidian eyes grinning at them. Fast as a striking snake, Kiku shot out of his chair and sank into a deep bow.

"Meister," he intoned in a voice of reverent respect. Lovino groaned.

"Great, what am I in trouble for now?" he grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. Antonio buried his face in his hands, muttering an incomprehensible phrase under his breath.

The Guild Meister shook his head, rubbing the top of his balding head. "Nothing… as of now."

"So, pops, why are you here?" asked Gilbert, letting the mechanical bird roam free on the table, much to Feliciano's delight.

The Meister made a face. Ludwig gaped at his older brother, as if he had sprouted an extra set of limbs. One simply did _not _address the _Meister _as "pops".

The Meister rolled his eyes, too used to Gilbert's flippant behavior to be bothered by it. Calling him "pops" was the lesser sin on a long list of evils that Gilbert had committed.

"I need to see your entire unit in my office. There's something I need to talk to you about." The Meister's expression was alarmingly grave, prompting everyone to stare at the three people who had the habit of getting under the Meister's skin: Gilbert, Lovino, and Feliciano.

"Brother… what did you do?" asked Ludwig, ice-blue eyes narrowed. Gilbert raised his left eyebrow in a perfect mask of innocent confusion.

"What? Nothing!"

Ludwig continued to stare, folding his hands together, his face, all harsh, stocky features and suspicion. Gilbert looked away, lips pursed into a pout.

"Well, nothing that I remember doing," he said.

"Uh huh…" Ludwig gave the baked potato skin a dark look, wondering as to how some mischief could be so great, they would all have to suffer for it. What made it even more maddening was the fact that he had a flawless behavioral record with the Meister, a rare feat thanks to the old man's prickly nature. A feat accomplished by only one other Guild Member, and a member of the same unit to boot: Kiku Honda.

Snorting, the Meister shot a glance up at the ceiling, where decorative cogs spun, well-oiled so as to not produce any noise. "None of you are in any trouble… yet," he snapped.

Now everyone was looking confused.

"Then, what do you want to see us for?" asked Gilbert.

The Meister turned a baleful eye on him. "I will tell all of you when you come to my study. Preferably, right after you're done eating."

With everyones' nods telling the Meister they had gotten the message, the old man turned away and walked out of the mess hall, only stopping to bellow a heated curse as another group at another table sent a glob of mashed potatoes flying towards him by accident.

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><p><em><strong>To Be Continued…<strong>_

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><p>"<em>What Power Can Bruise The Sky?"<em>

_-Laini Taylor, Dreams of Gods and Monsters_

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><p><em>Hello everyone! Well... I suppose it's time to introduce myself and give all my readers, and the people who favorited andor followed my story a big thank you! Your support means a lot to me, and I can't tell you how happy it made me to see that my humble beginning earned me 3 favorites and 5 follows on this story. If you ever feel the need to point something out, or offer me advice, feel free to say so. _

_So, once again, thank you so much for the support._

_-Eido_


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